4 Seasons of The Undertaker
by OsirisBlue
Summary: A compilation of short stories basically involving the Undertaker and different interactions with some of the WWE Divas during the 4 Seasons. Rated M for strong sexual themes, and suggestive dialogue
1. Chapter 1

**The Blizzard feat Sasha Banks as Mercy**

 _No_ thought Mercy as her Ford Explorer stopped in the middle of the snowy road, _this cannot be happening._

She tried several times in vain to turn her engine over, but the engine was completely and utterly dead. She swore in frustration

It was just past midnight and Mercy was on her way home from her best friend, Trinity's house. And it just her luck that she'd gotten caught in the mother of all snow storms. A storm that the meteorologists had been talking about for the past couple of weeks that would consist of howling brumal winds raging at 40 miles per hour and 3 to 4 feet of snow. _Fuck my life_ thought Mercy.

She gathered up her purse and took out her Smartphone to call for help. _Just great_ she thought as her phone had no reception.

She stepped out of the car and instantly regretted it; Strong gusts of wind blew tiny blades of ice in her face, nicking her mocha skin and leaving her magenta colored hair flying all around her. Her goose down jacket, however warm and snug, wasn't sufficient enough to combat the gelid air and she shivered uncontrollably as she started walking up the road.

She could barely see where she was going as her slight frame struggled against the mighty winds. Her legs were tired and her Uggs were getting soaked. She wondered how long it would be before she'd die of hypothermia.

She'd been walking for almost half an hour when a bright light cut through the negritude of the piney forest. Mercy searched for the source of light, which were headlights that belonged to a black Chevy Suburban. The window rolled down as it pulled up next to her.

The driver was a man in his late 40s or early 50s with rugged features and an auburn goatee streaked with specks of gray. His eyes were like clear pale emeralds and seemed to twinkle in the night.

"Need a lift?" he asked Mercy. He had rich baritone voice with a hint of Texas in it.

Mercy eyed him warily. Although the Suburban looked warmed and inviting, he was a stranger, and her mother had warned her about getting in strangers' cars. How did she know he wasn't some psychotic serial killer?

"Listen, Miss," said the man, "it's insanity for you to be walking in a snow storm like this. Look at you, you're shakin' like a dog shitting razor blades, you'll freeze the death out here, why don't you get in the car? I won't hurt you."

He had her at "You'll freeze to death". Mercy opened the door of the Suburban and climbed inside, secretly relieved.

As she got inside, she got a better look at him. The guy was massive, about 6 foot 8 or 9, and even under the leather jacket that he wore, she could tell that he had a strong build.

"Just so you know," she said to the man, "I have Mace in my purse and I'm not afraid to use it."

The man chuckled, a deep attractive sound issuing from his belly.

"I'll keep that in mind, ma'am," he drawled, "I don't blame you for being a little vigilant. But I think you should know that I meant it when I said I wouldn't hurt you."

He looked at Mercy and smiled, his smile as warm as his eyes. This seemed to ease some of Mercy's apprehension.

"Here's the deal," he said, "I have a cabin that I've rented out just up this road up here. You're welcome to stay until the storm is over and I could take you home from there. What do you say?"

 _What other choice do I have?_ thought Mercy.

"Sure," she said, "but before I decide I want to head to your cabin, can you tell me your name at least?"

"Of course, hon," said the man. "I'm Mark. What's yours?"

"Mercedes, but I prefer to be called Mercy."

"Well Mercy, Mercy me," said Mark, grinning a bit. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

"It's ok," said Mercy, grinning herself, "you get used to it after a while."

Mark pulled up next to a large log cabin that lied before a nearly frozen river. It was obscured by a thicket of hemlock trees.

"Here we are, Mercy," he said, opening the door for her to get out. She muttered her thanks as he helped her down. She followed him inside the cabin, the sounds of snow crunching underneath their boots.

The uncrowded cabin was cold, but welcoming with floor to ceiling windows that gave a nice view of the lake, which Mercy was sure was more breath taking during warmer climates. From the ceiling hung a chandelier made of deer antlers. A couple of plush chairs were set in front of a stone marble fireplace, whose mantle was adorn with Native American artifacts like steer skulls and flutes. The walls were decorated with Navajo tapestries with an acoustic guitar and drums leaned against it.

"Nice place," said Mercy.

"Thanks," said Mark, taking off his coat. "I've been happy here,"

Mercy took her coat off as well. The cold clung to her like oatmeal stuck to wall. It was so cold in the cabin, she could see her breath.

Seeing this, Mark gathered up some blankets and wrapped them neatly around Mercy. Then he gathered up some logs to put in the fireplace, striking up a match. Waves of warm relief filled the cabin the way a nice hot meal filled you up on a night such as this.

Mark sat in front of the fireplace, rubbing his hands hands together. He looked over at Mercy, who was still standing by the door, wrapped in blankets.

"Why don't you come and sit down hon?" he said, indicating the chair next to him, "I don't bite."

Mercy sat down, watching the flames dance merrily on the logs. Slowly, but surely she began to warm up.

"So what's your story?" asked Mark, "what were you doing walking in the woods during a blizzard?"

"I was on my way from a friend's house," said Mercy, still looking at the flames, "my car broke down in the middle of the road, and I was trying to find shelter or at least a ranger's station."

"I guess that Ford Explorer was yours," said Mark, "it's a good thing I came along then, isn't it? Or you would have been looking like Smurfette."

Mercy laughed.

"Do you have a story?" she asked.

"Me? Nah." said Mark, turning back to the fire.

"C'mon," said Mercy, "of course you do. Everyone has a story."

"Not me," said Mark, flatly.

"If I'm going to be staying in this cabin with you until the storm ends, I have to know something about you," said Mercy, "let's kill time."

"Alright, if you insist," said Mark, "what do you want to know?"

"Well, this cabin for starters," said Mercy, "do you live here?"

"From time to time," said Mark, "I live in the city mostly. I come here when I need to clear my mind from the hustle and bustle that comes with the city. I feel if I stay in the city too long, I began to feel congested."

"Are you married?" asked Mercy.

"Nah, divorced," said Mark. "I was never really husband material."

"Don't you ever get lonely in here?" asked Mercy.

"Most of the time, I don't," said Mark, "but it'd be nice if someone was up here with me, appreciating simple things everyone takes for granted. Slow down with me."

"Well," said Mercy walking over to Mark and sitting on his lap, "I could fill that role for you."

She leaned closer to him and kissed him. Caught by surprise, but quickly recovering, Mark captured her mouth with a hungry urgency that she felt, his tongue slithering in between her parted lips. She didn't know why she was doing it, kissing this strange man, getting ready to bed him, but it felt so right.

Mercy removed the blankets so that her arms would have free access to feel him, running her hands under his thermal long sleeve, feeling the hard slab of his belly, the rippling muscles of his hair roughened chest. His large hands snaked around her small waist and squeezed her round, firm ass as he kissed and sucked the nape of her neck and collar bone. Her Dolce and Gabbana perfume was stirring the lustful beast inside him.

Mark took his thermal off, showing off chiseled ivory skin covered in intricate tattoos. He then removed Mercy's t-shirt. She had no bra on and her voluptous, brazenly exposed breasts popped out at him, her nipples swollen with excitement.

"You are over 18, aren't you?" he asked Mercy, his green eyes lit with lust.

"Very much, so," she replied.

She moaned a little as Mark rained light kisses on her breast, ocassionally grazing her nipples with his hot tongue. He then pulled her pants past her waist and rubbed his hand up her inner thighs. The front of her panties were soaked with her excitement, causing Mark to growl with pleasure, as he slid a long thick finger into that moist sensitive spot that belonged to her only. She cried out, overcome with shuddering, clenching spasms as Mark slid his finger back and forth inside her. She was swimming in a river of bliss, while his finger taunted her little bud with over thousands of sensitive nerves.

He withdrew his fingers, going to undo the snap of his jeans. Mercy's eyes widened in amazement as his swollen manhood seemed to pop out of the tight confines of his jeans.

"Is that going to fit?" she asked, half joking.

Mark laughed, stroking this thick shaft.

"We're about to find out, aren't we?" he said, his voice deeper with arousal.

He discarded his pants, and she her panties. He lifted her up in the air, causing her to cry out in surprise and pinned her against the wall. Grabbing her thighs, he spread them wide and glided upward, deep inside her. Mercy screamed, at first in agony, then pleasure, as he pumped away, having no choice but to take the dick. Ripples of ecstasy rippled through her as Mark claimed her mouth in another kiss, groaning and grunting while he did it.

"Marrrkkkkkkkkk!" was all Mercy could manage to say. Mark quickened the tempo, the sound of flesh pounding against flesh resonating through the cabin.

"Whose is it?" asked Mark through gritted teeth.

"Yours, Daddy," said Mercy faintly.

"Damn straight," said Mark, "you fine mother fucker you!"

He burrowed his shaft further inside her. Mercy came again, screaming, jerking uncontrollably. She dug her nails into his back, leaving smell bloody indents as he drilled her like a bad tooth.

Mark could feel it himself, building up like a brewing storm. He couldn't control the stentorian cries issuing from his throat as he spilled his seed into her, lighting bolts of fulfillment overwhelming him. He rested his head on her, breathing hard, Mercy's own breaths coming out in deep shuddering whimpers.

They lay naked by the fireplace for a long time in silence the crackling of the flames and the raging winds outside being the only noise. Mercy cuddled close to Mark, loving the feel of his hard body. He stroked her strangely colored hair while he watched the flickering flames.

"What now?" asked Mercy.

"What do you mean, hon?" asked Mark.

"Do I have to leave in the morning?" asked Mercy.

Mark contemplated it for a second.

"Nah, darlin, you can stay as long as you want. You sure as hell earned it."


	2. Chapter 2

**One Autumn Evening**

 **Jojo Offerman as Alex**

The wind wailed on outside Brooklyn's Wythe Hotel, causing the trees surrounding it to sway dangerously, a medley of orange, red, and yellow leaves caught up in the aerial whirlpool. Alex looked on into the steady darkening street as she finished the rest of her Tom Collins. There was one perk of working at her father's hotel; She got to have a drink on the job every now and then. And anyone who dealt with her father on a regular basis would be driven to drink anyways.

Alex glanced at the time on her watch. It was two more minutes before she returned to the front. She figured she'd start heading back now or her father would go on a tangent about her being irresponsible, even if she was only a milisecond late. She rolled her eyes at the thought of it.

Nothing she ever did was good enough. She was attending Julliard College, majoring in Liberal Arts, she played the double bass and the piano (self-taught), she could sing and dance and besides English, she spoke Spanish, German, and Swiss. She never did any kind of clubbing or drugging. Any father would have been proud to have a daughter like her. But no, she lacked ambition and wasted too much energy on wanting to be a singer, instead of carrying on his legacy at the Wythe.

She returned to the front with a minute to spare. Her father was with the hotel accountant consulting the financial records, much to her relief. She turned on a radio and tuned into the jazz station. Nothing soothed her nerves more than hearing the licks of a saxophone or meliflous tinklings of piano. The Tom Collins was a bonus.

She looked out the windows once more. The evening sky was full of fuliginous clouds, filled at the seams with water. Most people found times like these dreary and depressing, but not Alex; There was no feeling better than being outside on an overcast autumn day, getting a lung full of air that was crisp as the bite of an apple.

A man dragging a rucksack and carrying a guitar case, entered the hotel lobby. He was a rather tall man wearing a black windbreaker, faded Levi jeans and boots. He had shoulder length auburn hair that was graying at the side and specs of gray in his goatee. His eyes were a clear green like a peridot gemstone. JoJo ogled him as he approached the desk.

"How may I help you, sir?" asked JoJo, having to crane her neck to look at the guest.

"I have a reservation under the name Calaway," said that man. He had a deep, appealing voice in which Alex detected a hint of a Southern accent.

"Calaway," muttered Alex, typing in the last name, "Right, Mr. Mark Calaway, the South 8th Loft is all set for you."

She gathered up the key and handed it to Mark.

"Is there anything else we can do for you this evening?" asked Alex.

"As a matter of fact, there is," said Mark, "two things."

"Sure," said Alex, "what is that, sir?"

"I've not eaten all day , miss," said Mark, "I'd like lobster tails, fresh strawberries with whipped cream, and a bottle of champagne. Armand de Brignac Brut if you have it."

"That can be arranged," said Alex, "what's the other thing?"

Mark's green eyes met Alex's cocoa brown ones.

"I ask you to join me," he said, smiling warmly. A pleasant feeling lept in the lower depts of Alex's stomach.

"O-Okay," stammered Alex.

"I expect to see you in 5 minutes, beautiful," said Mark. He winked at Alex, as he headed to his room.

A bunch of feelings changed at warp speed in Alex's mind; Curiosity, confusion, and Apprehension. Why did this Mark Calaway want her to join him for dinner? Should she dare leave the desk?

Through those feelings, a pang settled in Alex's chest, no doubt bought on by the Tom Collins. It was a hunger pang. Not a hunger for lobster tails, but a hunger for rebellion. Her evenings were so boring when she wasn't in school. All she did was sit at that desk for seven hours straight, it would be nice to disturb the routine for once. And hell, she hadn't been laid in two months.

After coaxing another hotel worker into getting behind the desk until she got back, Alex

made her way to the South 8th Loft. She straightened out the blouse she was wearing before coming to the door. The sound of a guitar was playing inside. Alex listened momentarily before knocking on the door.

"Enter." said Mark's pleasant baritone.

The room was 950 square feet with floor to ceiling windows that displayed an ethereal view of the Manhattan skyline which was aglow with bright lights. There was an interior staircase that lead to an upstairs terrace incase you wanted to go outside and view the skyline. It had a lounge, a dining space, a standalone pedestal tub, and a full service minibar.

Mark sat on the leather sectioned sofa, his back toward Alex. He was still playing on the guitar, a Gibson L5.

"Wes Montgomery," said Alex at once, "Round Midnight."

Mark looked up at her, thoroughly impressed.

"Well, well," he said, "you know your jazz,"

Alex smirked.

"What?" she said, "you assumed I was one of those millennials who thinks Justin Bieber is the greatest thing since sliced bread?"

It was Mark's turn to smirk.

"Oh the irony," he said, "you accusing me of assuming all whilst assuming yourself."

He set the Gibson down and got up. He had took off his windbreaker and was donning a black shirt that was unbuttoned, showing off a white tank top that hugged him, showing off every result of his time spent in the gym. Alex felt her mouth watering.

"I have to ask you, Mr. Calaway," started Alex, but Mark cut her off.

"No need with all that formal stuff, hon," he said, "Mr. Calaway is what they called my father. Mark will do just fine."

"Fine, Mark," said Alex, "I have to ask, why- uh, why'd you ask me up here?"

Mark took off the shirt, showing off his large sinewy arms adorn with a plethora of tattoos.

"I'm a jazz musician who's been touring for about five months now," he said, "and right now I'm a lonely man in this lonely loft who doesn't want to have a lonely dinner."

"Well, I have no problem having dinner with you, Mark," said Alex, "but I usually don't make the habit of coming to the rooms of strange men."

"Oh, I could tell that, hon," said Mark, laughing, "so why'd you come up here?"

"I don't know," said Alex, "I felt like being bad,"

"Is that right?" said Mark, "Well, I hope I get to see how bad you are later on, hmm?"

Alex observed him with a kittenish grin. He was a little older than the guys she usually prefered, but he seemed to have charm, and swagger. His eyes were the most gorgeous pair she'd ever seen.

"Dinner should be heading up here soon," said Mark, "why don't you sit down with me on the couch here, and we'll get to know each other better?"

Alex set herself down on the couch, looking up at the inky indigo sky. Mark joined her shortly and they looked at the view together. Alex detected the scent of Polo Blue cologne from him, which roused her olfactory sensors.

"So," said Mark after a while, "What's your name, and how long have you been working at this hotel?"

"I'm Alex," said Alex twirling her hair around her index finger, "and I've pratically been working in this hotel my entire life, my family has owned this hotel for years."

"That must be nice," said Mark.

"It would be if my father wasn't such an asshole." said Alex.

"Why's he an asshole, hon?" asked Mark.

"He just thinks I exist to obey his orders," said Alex, "He doesn't get that I have a life beyond this stupid hotel. He won't acknowledge my own dreams or aspirations."

"Yeah, parents definitely are a pain in the ass when it comes to what you want to do in life," said Mark, "wanting you to be what they want you to be, and sacrificing the child's happiness to live vicariously through them."

He sounded like he was talking from an anecdotal standpoint.

"Exactly," said Alex, "This hotel is not my destiny."

"What are your dreams and aspirations?" asked Mark.

"Well, I want to get involved in the performing arts," said Alex. "I can dance, play the piano and double bass, and I can also sing."

"Sing?" repeated Mark, his eyebrows raised. "Let me hear you sing something, darlin'."

Alex decided to sing God Bless the Child by Billie Holliday. Mark listened, his jaw dropping in amazement.

"Damn, you could blow, sweetheart," said Mark after Alex finished singer. "You're going to be huge someday."

"Thanks," said Alex, smiling, "so how long have you been a musician?"

"A little over thirty years," said Mark. "Once upon a time, I had dreams of playing basketball. I was well on my way to the pros when a knee injury put a dash on that dream. So I dropped out of college and made money by doing a number of odd jobs and busking on the streets. One night at a jazz club, Chico Davis and his band were in town. Their guitarist had gotten alcohol poisoning and couldn't play. I was the only cat in the club who knew how to play guitar, so I got up on stage and played with them. Things went over so well, I ended up replacing their guitar player and have been playing professionally ever since."

There was a knock at the door.

"Alas," said Mark, "dinner is here."

The bellboy pushed the tray of food into the room. Mark muttered his thanks and set the food on the table. Alex helped him set up in the dining area.

"Well," said Mark, sitting down after he poured Alex and himself a glass of Armand de Brignac, "Bon appetít, dear."

A couple of lobster tails and few glasses of champagne later, a reckless giddy sort of feeling took a hold of Alex. She couldn't peel her eyes away from his own viridescent gaze, as he picked up a strawberry and dipped it emphatically in whipped cream.

"Hey, um, you don't have to eat those strawberries by yourself, big man," she said, her voice a little husky as she walked over to him. "Let me help you eat them."

She took the dipped strawberry and brushed it against Mark's lips slowly, smearing them with whipped cream. She then pulled him into an intoxicating kiss, feeding Mark both the sweetness of her lips, and the sweetness of the whipped cream. Mark groaned, pulling Alex down on his lap as his tongue found hers.

Alex positioned the strawberry tightly between her teeth and lifted up Mark's tank top over his head, tracing the berry seductively over the letters inked on his stomach and working his way back up to his mouth again, where he took a bite of the tip and snatched Alex's lips into another fervid kiss.

Mark ran his large hands up Alex's blouse, feeling every curvy goodness of her mahogany flesh forming in goosebumps under them. He removed her blouse, leaving her in a lacy purple bra.

"Let's take this to the bed, shall we?" said Mark, his voice lowering an octave in his lust. The scent of his arousal was strong like morning coffee and it was driving Alex wild.

Mark lay Alex gently down on the king sized bed, his hands snaking behind her back and unhooking her bra. She had small, but plump breasts that were tender to the touch. Mark took the bottle of Armand de Brignac and poured the golden liquid over her breasts, watching it trickle down her sternum like some kind of exotic stream. He lapped up the champagne, causing Alex to shiver in anticipation as his tongue made contact with her flesh.

He pushed her skirt up further, kissing her thighs earnestly. Then he slid her panties past her ankles and looked down at the curly mound, glistening with her excitement.

He dabbed some whipped cream between Alex's thighs and pushed them to either side of the bed. He then lowered his head dug his tongue deep into the portals of her womanhood causing an electrical surge that caused Alex to shout cries of bliss. Two months of pent up hormones being released made Alex buck uncontrollably. She couldn't hang on as Mark's tongue met her easily aroused bud and tried to push Mark's head away, begging him to stop.

"But I'm just getting started, sexy," said Mark, standing up and unbuckling his belt. He dropped his pants showing off his thick, pulsating cock.

A gasp escaped Alex as he filled her to the hilt. She looked up at the greens, luminscent with wild desire as broke into consistent, but strong thrusts. Alex moaned and screamed, wriggling and writhing underneath him as her toes curled. He quickened the tempo, bearing down on her, pumping harder, his balls, slapping against her upturned bottom.

"Take it!" said Mark, hoarsley as Alex squirmed underneath him. "Take all of it."

Alex cried out once more, glorious waves of splendor crashing down upon her. Clutching the sheets tight, she whimpered Mark's name a few while Mark pumped meat rocket into her.

She yelped as Mark pulled out of her, flipped her over and raised her up on her knees. He gave her perky little bottom a few smacks before entering her once more, this time pounding the hell out of her, while he wrapped his mouth around Alex's mouth to cover her loud, sensous moans.

At long last, he pulled out of her and released his final moment of ecstasy onto the small of Alex's back. He was breathing hard as he collapsed on the bed next to Alex, who crawled on top of him, kissing him.

"That was amazing, darlin'," said Mark while he gripped Alex's butt tight.

"Yeah, it was," said Alex, running her hand through Mark's hair, "I've never been fucked like that before."

"If you come on the road with me and be my new singer, I'll give you more of that," said Mark, "what do you say, Alex?"

"Me? Come on the road with you?" inquired Alex. "Are you serious?"

"Well, if you want to stay here, I'll completely understand," said Mark quickly.

"Hell no, I don't want to stay here," said Alex, "when can I leave with you?"

"I board the plane first thing tomorrow morning," said Mark, "I can pay for your ticket."

"I'd love to see the look on Daddy's face when he sees that I'm gone," said Alex, dreamfully.

"You needn't worry about him anymore," said Mark, "Cuz far as I'm concerned, I'm your daddy now."


	3. Chapter 3

**The Ice Cream Man**

 **Lita's featured in this one**

It was a stifling 98 degrees with the heat index in the triple digits. _A perfect time for the fucking air conditioner to fizz out,_ thought Amy bitterly as her cherry red '68 Mustang entered an intersection, stopping at a red light. She broke into a sweat immediately; it was like the humidity engulfed the night air, there was no breeze. It didn't help either, that in addition to feeling hot, Amy was also feeling the other two Hs; Horny and Hungry.

As the light turned green, Amy thought about how long it'd been since the last time she'd gotten laid. It had been with her ex, Matt after a night of screwdrivers, sleazy love songs, and transiet feelings of loneliness. Now matter how ill her feelings toward him were, she had to admit he was a stud in the bedroom. Now he was married to some white trash stripper, so she could no longer rely on him for some desperate sex.

Amy entered The Point of No Return, a strip of shopping centers, music clubs, tattoo parlors, and food courts, that stretched nearly three miles wide. People of different ages and different backgrounds hung out there, usually participating in drag races up and down the strip, or smoking pot in the large parking lot. It was always something to do at the Point of No Return, it was difficult to become bored.

Amy parked the Mustang in front of a tattoo parlor where there were a few workers out there, having a cigarette break. They greeted Amy with a nod and commented on her own tattoos as she stepped into the sweltering summer night.

Someone was playing Black Sabbath in the distance. Amy sung the lyrics of NIB to herself as she scoured the score of small crowds, looking for a potential person to lay. The problem was that there were many young folks out there that night, which was to be expected on Fridays. Although society was accepting of women her age fooling around with young men, the idea always revolted Amy. She couldn't bear the thought of fucking someone young enough to be her son. She liked men her age or older.

After 15 minutes of walking and man searching, her efforts were proving fruitless. Frustration was settling in and her hormones were raging like soldiers entering a battlefield. She needed some so bad. And her stomach growling didn't help matters. At least she could do something about the hunger. She walked a few stores up to a diner called Appetite Crushers, which lived up to its name; They served up delicious, high quality food in large proportions and at good prices. At least Amy would leave the place with a satisfied stomach.

As Amy was heading in, she peeped a chopper park closeby. And what a chopper it was; A custom made West Coast design, the ice white painting gleaming against the dark night. Skulls and wizards were painted on it as well.

 _Man!_ thought Amy, her mouth watering, _What a bike!_

The Appetite Crusher was slightly crowded, but Amy managed to find a stool next to a young woman with spiky blonde hair. She looked at the menu and decided to order a cheeseburger and fries with a chocolate cherry milkshake.

While she waited for her food, she found herself staring at the chopper again. She seemed drawn to it. She wondered if the owner looked as good as the chopper itself.

Her thoughts were cut abruptly when someone accidentally bumped into her. She gasped as she fell off the stool, but before she could hit the floor, a pair of sturdy hands caught her and placed her back on the stool.

"Sorry about that, ma'am," said deep voice that oozed masculinity. Amy looked over at the man and found herself looking up at a stalwart of a man, dressed in a classic ice cream man, uniform. He was ruggedly handsome with clear green eyes, and a goatee that was streaked with a bit of gray. A large steak with scrambled eggs and toast lay in front of him.

"It's okay," said Amy, smiling, "no harm done."

"Good," said the ice cream man, returning her smile, "I wouldn't have wanted your broken body on my conscience."

 _Goddamn!_ thought Amy as the ice cream man cut up his steak. _Now that's a man!_ It was going to be either him or the owner of that chopper. Decisions, decisions.

Amy's attention had went back to the chopper again, she just couldn't seem to take her eyes off that bike. Also, she was waiting to see if the owner of the chopper would emerge.

"Ma'am," said the ice cream man, "your food."

Amy snapped back to reality and looked down. Sure enough, her meal was set in front of her, waiting to be devoured.

"You were deep in thought there, weren't you?" said the ice cream man.

"Nah, I was eyeing that chopper out there," said Amy, "man, that is one rad bike."

The ice cream man grinned and said, "thanks, she's my pride and joy."

Amy looked at the ice cream man in amazement.

"What?" said the ice cream man, "you expect me to ride that big ass truck when I'm off duty too?"

Amy laughed, as she picked up her burger and ripped into it.

"Now that's what I like," purred the ice cream man, "a woman who ain't afraid to eat. I wouldn't expect it from a skinny chick like yourself."

Amy scoffed.

"Skinny?" she said, "Yeah, right. You haven't seen me naked."

The ice cream man raised his eyebrows.

"Is that an invitation?" he asked.

"Are you accepting?"

Her come hither hazel gaze met his curious greens. The ice cream man's dimple twitched.

"I've got an apartment about a few blocks from here," he said finally, "maybe you can sample my Bomb Pop while you're there."

"As long as you lick the cherry on top," said Amy in a seductive whisper.

After the two finished eating, they hopped on the ice cream man's chopper. Amy wrapped her arms around his middle while he drove toward the exit. She could feel every hour he spent in the gym etched in his abdomen. He felt so good.

The motorcycle roared into the night, the velocity causing Amy's long red hair to fly all over the place. She held on a little tighter as he sped up along the highway.

"Aren't you afraid that I might be a sadistic serial killer?" asked the ice cream man as he stopped at a red light.

Amy laughed.

"I have strong gut instincts," she said, "you don't give off that aura."

They finally pulled up in front of a row of cast iron apartments. The ice cream man got off the bike, jumping as Amy squeezed his tight ass.

"Sorry," said Amy, grinning slightly, "I couldn't resist."

He lifted her up off the bike and lead her into his apartment.

His apartment was a cozy loft that looked well maintained with its frequently buffed cherry oak flooring. The walls were painted a pleasant orange juice yellow with Pollock paintings framed on top of them. He had a iron spiral stairs that led to the top of the roof. Through the floor the wall ceilings, Amy could see the beautiful city skyline, the lights coruscant against the black night sky.

"May I offer you a drink?" asked the ice cream man.

"Sure," said Amy, "I'll take some bourbon. Gin, if you have it."

The ice cream man smiled.

"A women who likes stiff ones," he said, "but of course, your love of stiff ones is why you're here."

He took her by the hand and lead her to his kitchen, a modern design with rainbow granite countertops, maple cabinets and a steel refrigerator. A mini bar also came equip with the kitchen.

He poured glasses of bourbon for Amy and himself. He gave the glass to Amy before clinking them together, muttering "Cheers"

Amy sank her drink in one shot, that familiar burning sensation scorching her throat and chest.

"This really is a nice place you have here," said Amy. "Pretty top notch face for someone who works as an ice cream man."

"It's nice to be your own boss," said the ice cream man. "Started off with a used cart selling home made lemon pops, now I've expanded into a whole enterprise. I'm Mark Calaway, ice cream entrpreneur, I run and own Starbelle Ice Cream Company.

Amy's eyes widened.

"I've heard of you," she said, "your company's on Forbes Top 50 of fastest rising companies."

"Oh, so you are familiar with my company," said Mark, impressed.

"Yeah, I read business magazines every now and then," said Amy.

"So, what's your name," asked Mark.

"Dumas," said Amy, "Amy Dumas."

"Dumas?" asked Mark with raised eyebrow, "French?"

" _Oui,"_ said Amy " _parlez-vous français?"_

" _Oui, madame,"_ said Mark, " _Je veux te basier."_

"Ooooh, you get right to the point don't you?" said Amy, "well, here I am ice cream man, give it to me."

"Oh I'mma give it to you," said Mark, unbuckling his belt, "I'mma give it to you so good, you'll never find another more better."

Amy's hands flew to Mark's fly, in a frenzy to get the dick. She pulled his white cotton uniform pants past his lean hips. He was wearing Zimmerli boxer briefs, that were barely sufficient enough to hold the throbbing hardness straining against the carefully woven confines.

Amy, without trepidation, pulled Mark's underwear aside, cupping his bare ass as she marked her territory on the tip of his rubescent head with her lipstick. Then she gave it a few salacious licks before she took him in her mouth. He braced his legs to keep himself from falling to the floor as Amy drove him to the outskirts of sexual rhapsody, capturing his engorged rod in a mind blowing suction.

"Aw, fuck," Mark groaned. He placed his large hands on Amy's skull and squeezed a little tightly while Amy's head bobbed up and down his shaft.

Withdrawing his cock from her mouth, he removed his shirt. Amy eyed him hungrily, observing his herculean muscles ripple across his body, slick with perspiration, well detailed tattoos printed on his arms, neck, and belly. He scooped her up out of her seat and laid her on the table, methodically removing every article of her clothing, until she was in nothing but her ankle bracelet.

She had a lean, athletic build with healthy tanned skin with her arms covered in tattoos. He took his hands and squeezed her beautifully formed breasts, massaging them, loving soft feel of them and her taut rosy nipples.

Mark disappeared for a few seconds, returning with whipped cream and maraschino cherries. He sprayed whipped cream onto her breasts and down her flat belly topping her breasts with two maraschino cherries.

Amy closed her eyes, savoring the pleasant sensation of Mark's tongue grazing her nipples, licking up whipped cream as he went. A titillating moan escaped her red lipsticked lips as he licked down from her sternum to her belly and worked his way back up again, licking her clean.

Heading further down South, he came to that private satin flesh, her bed of curls swimming in a pool of arousal. He parted her lips and sent sexually charged shockwaves up and down Amy's body when his tongue delved into her womany goodness, punishing that easily excited button with frantic, circular motions. She tasted so good, succulent and sweet, like a honeydew melon. Amy screamed, sensual waves of exaltation crashing down on her, as her Mark tongue and mouth gathered up her juices of bliss. She moaned his name a few times as he plunged deeper into her.

Mark withdrew his tongue, looking up at Amy with a taunting look. Before she could protest or even curse at him, he mounted her, claiming her mouth with his own, giving her a taste of herself. She squeezed his ass in urgency.

"C'mon, ice cream man, fuck me," said Amy. " _Défonce-moi."_

Mark's eyes turned a deeper shade of green in his lust.

"As you wish," he said.

He opened her thighs as wide as he can get them. He then pressed his head against her opening, groaning as he slid inside, the large member straining her tight walls. Amy's breath came out in short, sharp gasps, as she came again. She arched her back to take him further as Mark gyrated his hips into frenzied, but fluid strokes.

"Oh-GOD!" Amy shouted, raking Mark's back, leaving bloody entrails as Mark grabbed her hips and quickened the tempo, "Give it to me good!"

Mark bore down on her, driving her knees into her breasts as he pounded her as if there were no tomorrow, bringing her to another earth shattering orgasm. Amy was positively shouting with bliss, lights dancing in her eyes.

Mark could feel himself close to the edge. He grinded into her further, a little slower this time, wanting to feel every bit of her moist goodness.

"Fuck!" he groaned, as he soared over the edge, letting out the longest hottest release of his life. He fell on top of Amy, breathing hard, Amy's own breaths coming out shallow. They lay there for a long time, neither one of them saying anything; what just happened was wonderful beyond words.

 _A few hours later._

Amy awoke suddenly, quite alone. She was laying on a bed, shrouded in darkness, the streetlights from outside being the only source of light. The draft in the room told her that she was still naked. She wondered how long she had been asleep?

Wanting to go to the bathroom, Amy groped around for a lamp. Finally finding it, she tugged on the chain and turned it on. There stood Mark, also still naked, except for a Good Humor hat and another massive hard on. In his hand was an ice cream, double scooped, in which he licked suggestively.

"Are you ready for round two?" he asked, his green eyes piercing into Amy's.

Amy smiled to herself as Mark slithered onto the bed with her. There was nothing wrong with a little extra helping of dessert.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Neighbor**

 **Paige as Jade. Becky Lynch appearance.**

It had been a long, harsh, and bitter winter, though, in Buffalo, New York, that was always the case. But now, Buffalo and the rest of the Tri-State area was in stage of Rebirth, much to the residents' relief. Trees were seen blossoming newborn leaves, lawns were transitioning from their deadened, forlorn appearance, to a plush, virid state, and people were enjoying the heavenly breeze.

It was a particularly sunny and airy afternoon. Jade Bevis, and her best friend and roommate, Rebecca, were on their way back to their modest rambler style home after having a 5 mile jog.

"Bloody hell," said Jade, collapsing in the lounge chair on her front porch, breathing heavily, "my lungs feel deflated."

"My hams are throbbing," said Becky in her thick Irish brogue as she plopped into the chair next to Jade's, "how did you ever get me to agree to this?"

After the two women caught their breath, Jade pushed herself up and said, "have any plans tonight?"

"Nope," said Rebecca, "why do you have something in mind?"

"It's just that you're always going somewhere every evening," said Jade, "I'd like for us to do something together. Have a little girlie night, movies, girl talk, you know?"

"What is this, the 1990s?" asked Rebecca, laughing.

"I mean, you're always busy," said Jade, "When you're not working, you're either with your boyfriend or you're doing something for your family. The only time we're together is when we're jogging or going out to lunch. C'mon, take a break from everything else and hang with me."

"Oh, alright," said Rebecca, "if it means that much to you."

Just then, a black '16 Dodge Challenger pulled up into the parking lot of the house next to Jade's and Rebecca's home. Out of the car, came a man who appeared to be settling in middle age with his shoulder length ginger hair graying in some areas. He was tall and powerfully built with demonic tattoos covering both of his brawny arms. His eyes were concealed by dark sunglasses, which Jade and Rebecca could never recall him not having them. As he grabbed his groceries from his car, he turned around and stared at the two women for a good 10 seconds, before trudging stoically into his home.

"Ugh," said Jade, "what an uber creepy bloke."

"I know," said Rebecca. "I hate how he never says anything, but just stares. He has a serial killer like aura about him."

"Right?" said Jade, "we've lived here for three years, and he's never spoken to us. We don't even know his name, I wonder if he's hiding something?"

"Yeah, probably 20 bodies in his crawlspace," muttered Rebecca, "I've seen him take axes and chainsaws from out his car before."

"You don't think he...? said Jade, trailing off, horrified at the possibility that their enigmatic next door neighbor really was a murderer.

"It could be just us jumping to conclusions," said Rebecca, "we don't know what that guy is."

"I know for certain he's a weirdo," said Jade.

"We can definitely agree on that," said Rebecca, "but enough about them. I'm going to take a hot bath, my hams are throbbing!"

"Ha, Connect Four, beat you again!" said Jade triumphantly. Rebecca swore spectacularly.

"You've beaten me in Uno, Yahtzee, and Connect Four," she said, looking grumpy, "let's play a game of my choosing."

"Alright, I'll take a chance at beating you at your own game," said Jade brightly, "what is it?"

"Truth or Dare," said Rebecca.

"Ok, you're on," said Jade, "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," said Rebecca.

"Playing it safe, are we?" said Jade, smirking, "Alright, is it true that it was you who sent Ashley from work a chocolate pie tainted with laxatives?"

Rebecca's lip twitched before she burst out in guffaws.

"Yes, it's true," she said, "and I'd do it again if I have to. That bitch had it coming."

"Oh my God, that's so hilarious!" said Jade, weakly; she was laughing so hard, her stomach muscles hurt.

"Ok, your turn," said Rebecca, "truth or dare?"

"Dare," said Jade immediately.

"Are you sure?" asked Rebecca.

"Positive."

"Okay then, said Rebecca, a leer on her face, "I dare you...to...sneak into the creepy neighbor's house."

Jade's face whitened, though it was hard to tell, as she was unusually pale anyway.

"And get chopped into minced meat? Are you fucking serious, Becky?"

"What's this?" said Rebecca, "a wee bit frightened, are we now?"

"W-what?" sputtered Jade outraged, "No I'm not ruddy frightened- how dare you accuse- alright, dammit, I'll do it. I'll break into his bleeding house! If they find my remains in a ditch somewhere, I'll haunt you for all eternity."

Rebecca merely laughed.

"You'll be fine," she said, " Just break in, and bring back a souvenir, and get out, simple."

"Yeah, as simple as poking a sleeping lion in the eye," muttered Jade.

"Look, if you take longer than expected, I'll call the police," said Becca.

"You sure know how to boost confidence, don't you?" said Jade sarcastically.

"I won't let anything happen to you," said Rebecca. "Honest."

Jade heard the sincerity in her voice and relaxed a bit. She headed into the kitchen to get what she needed to get into the creep's house.

Armed with a flashlight, flathead screwdriver, and a pair of brass knuckles, Jade climbed over the fence and striddled toward the back, where she came to a door that lead to the basement.

Jade paused for a few seconds to listen to whether he was in the basement. When she didn't hear anything, she slid the screwdriver into the door and opened it. The door slightly creaked open as Jade slid inside. She closed the door quietly behind her and looked around, turning the flashlight on.

The basement was tidy with storage containers stacked up in four neat piles. Nearby was a wood carver's bench and a bunch of undone wood sculptures on the table. There were also the usual things you'd find in a basement, such as shovels, rakes, a lawn mower, and tools.

Jade decided to go into the storage containers. She grabbed the one most near and unearthed it.

Inside were old and battered boxing gloves with Joe Louis's faded signature on them, newspaper clippings, yellowed with age, of numerous boxers littered the storage bin. There was a promotional poster of Ali vs Foreman, Rumble in the Jungle that was well preserved, but in a state that it couldn't be unfolded, as it had been folded for so long. It was obvious the weird neighbor was a boxing fan.

The next storage bin contained numerous photo albums of the weird neighbor. Though in these photos, he looked more happier and younger, and for once, he wasn't wearing sunglasses in most of these photos. His eyes were a clear light green, and he had a deep dimpled smile.

"Oh my God," whispered Jade, giggling slightly as she looked at photos of the weird neighbor when he was younger, "he's a ginger! That's so cute!"

There was photo of him dated circa 1996 with a beefy, scruffy bearded man with long curly hair. He himself had his bright red hair tied into a ponytail, and was wearing sunglasses, with two large mugs of beer. In the subtitle, it read, "The Two Marks"

"So his name is Mark?" said Jade thoughtfully. She'd found her souvenir.

She took the photo out of the album, tucked it safely in her pocket, and put the storage bins in their respective places. She then made her way back to the door, when, to her horror, it burst open, narrowly avoiding her head. In the door stood Mark, who wasn't wearing sunglasses this time, and his green eyes were polar caps in his fury. Cold dread filled Jade as if she'd been injected with ice. On instinct, she took her fist that wore the brass knuckle and went for Mark's face, but with alarmingly quick reflexes, he grabbed her fist, and twisted her arm upwards behind her back. As she went to scream, he wrapped a large hand around her mouth and shut the door behind him.

Jade struggled fruitlessly against the behemoth of a man, but he was too strong. He dragged her toward a door and opened it, revealing a back room.

The room was small with a slightly musty smell lingering in the air. It only consisted of a chair and a twin sized bed. Jade's fear reached its highest pitch.

"Let me go, let me go," pleaded Jaded, sobbing as Mark released her, but locked the door behind him.

"Let you go?" said Mark, fiercely. It was the first time she'd heard him speak; He had a deep voice with a touch of the South ingrained in it. "You break into my home and think I should just let you walk out of here? What were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry," wailed Jade, "it was on a dare, that's all."

"Oh, is that all?" said Mark, "trying to figure out whether I was a serial killer with bodies in my basement or not? Yeah, I know all about that," he added, catching the shocked look on Jade's face. "I hear you and your friend talking about how creepy I am, how I look like a murderer. I'm a hard working man who deserves to live a nice quiet life without having to worry about nosy little brats assuming shit about me. You know why you see me with axes and chainsaws? I cut wood for a living, and occasionally carve things out of wood, not people!"

"I'm sorry," repeated Jade, tearfully, "Please, Mark, just let me go."

Mark's lip curled into a one-sided smile.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere, little girl," he said, inching slowly toward her. "I'm going to do something I should have done to your nosy ass a long time ago."

Jade screamed as Mark grabbed her and lifted her over his shoulder. He headed over to the chair and put her facedown on his lap.

"Gerroffme arsehole!" shouted Jade squirming as Mark lifted up her skirt, "you can't do this to me!"

Mark ignored her, as he pulled her underwear down to her ankles, revealing her perky backside, pale against the dim light. He raised his hand in the air and delivered a resounding slap to Jade's ass.

"OUCH!" Jade cried, her eyes burning with humiliation, "OW! LET ME GO!"

But Mark was relentless. He punished her buttocks with hard, emphatic slaps.

"Don't you ever- _SMACK!_ \- let me catch you - _SMACK!_ \- breaking - _SMACK! -_ into my house- _SMACK!-_ again- _SMACK! -_ Got it?- _SMACK!_

He gave her ass a few more spanks for good measure before desisting. Jade looked angrily back at him, her eyes watery with pain. Her pale buttocks was raw with Mark's handprints printed all across it.

"That felt good, didn't it?" crooned Mark, "that ought to teach you not to burglarize people's houses, shouldn't it?"

"Fuck you," spat Jade. Mark merely chuckled.

"That can be arranged."

He ran his hand up and down Jade's butt.

"That really looks like it hurts," he said, arousal rumbling in his voice, "want me to kiss it better, darling?"

He lifted her up one more time, laying her facedown on the bed. Jade didn't struggle this time; She wanted to see whether he really was going to do it.

And sure enough, she felt his lips making contact with her stinging flesh. She sighed, wiggling a little as he kissed and bit her backside lightly again and again. He brushed his lips up and down her crack, his goatee prickling her.

"Mmmm," moaned Jade, the sensation of Mark's sensuous lips grazing her ass developing goosebumps on her flesh. She then felt him lift her legs up in a standing wheel barrow position, exposing the tight depths of her, sensitive opening, hairless and moist from her excitement. Without hesitation, Mark buried his face into it, making sweeping, swirling motions with his tongue against her excited little bud, her juices intermingling with his saliva. She cried out, her eyes closed in lustful euphoria.

Her moans made Mark's semi erect shaft progress to an agonizing stiffy, her pink forbidden flesh, juicy and sweet, like watermelon. He continued to lick and suck, taking her to the outskirts of intense pleasure, as she gripped the bed covers for dear life.

He withdrew his tongue and lowered Jade back on the bed. He began to undress Jade before removing his own clothes. Jade took all of him in, his bare ivory skin glistening with sweat, making him sparkle like a diamond against the dim light. His swollen manhood was like a pale anaconda with a large rubescent head. She beckoned him to come closer, to which she obliged. Looking into his viridescent gaze, pupils dilated in arousal, she ran her slight hands up and down his thickly muscled chest, down his rock hard abs, and back up to his chest again, pinching his nipples lightly.

"C'mon, big boy," she said, brushing her teacup breasts against him, "let me return the favor. Let me smack your bum."

Mark smirked a little.

"Those small hands won't hurt me," he said.

It was Jade's turn to smirk.

"Wanna bet? she said, "assume the position, woodcutter."

Mark obliged, kneeling on the bed in a doggystyle position. Jade ran her hand's up Mark's small, lily white ass, squeezing and kneading. Then, with all the strength she could muster, she gave a sharp slap to his ass, causing him to cry out in surprise. Smirking once more, she alternated between her right and left hand, smacking his butt as hard as she could.

"Like that, you naughty little bugger?" said Jade as she continued to punish Mark's backside with hard, resonant slaps.

"Yes!" shouted Mark, "c'mon, baby, one more time."

Jade delivered a final blow to Mark's ass, causing him to cry out in ecstatic bliss. She grabbed his balls and cradled them lovingly in her hand, before sliding it up and down his stiff manhood. Mark groaned in satisfaction, savoring the moment. Jade took her middle finger and slid it halfway into the forbidden hole when Mark yelped and said "What're you doing girl?"

Jade giggled.

"Afraid of a little bum play are we?"

"That's an exit only area," said Mark, "I'm not into that fruity shit."

Jade rolled her eyes.

"C'mon, that doesn't make you fruity," she said, "the prostate is like the male g-spot, there's nothing wrong with it."

There was a pause. Then Mark said, "alright, go ahead, but you'd better not tell anyone."

Jade chuckled and said, "Okay."

She slid her finger inside once more, while simultaneously running her hand up and down his shaft. A series of hoarse groans escaped Mark's lips as Jade quickened the pace. She found his prostate and stroked it gently.

"Fuck," he grunted, "Ah shit."

Just when he was getting used to the sensation, Jade stopped. Jade smiled slightly as he looked back at her in outrage.

"Don't want you blowing your load too early," she said, "come take me, big boy."

With that freakish speed, Mark wheel around and grabbed Jade, pinning her underneath him. She looked up at him, a wild lustful gleam in his green eyes.

"Buckle up, sweetheart," he said, easing his cock inside Jade's moist innermost portals, "it's going to be a wild ride."

Jade opened her legs wider, accepting him as he entered her fully with one deep thrust. Jade's breath came out in agonized gasps, spasms of delight rocketing through her as Mark lifted her hips upward to meet his thrusts. Jade's moans and gasps made Mark harder along with the sounds of flesh pounding against flesh.

"Yessssss!" shouted Jade as Mark drove deeper into her with hard, emphatic thrusts, "Fuck me! Harder...deeper...proper!"

Mark rode Jade like a wild bull, making her jerk in spasmodic motions. She was swimming in a sea of coital bliss.

Mark could feel the final moment brewing in him. He slowed down a little, wanting to feel every moist goodness of Jade.

"Goddamn, baby," said Mark hoarsely, "you feel so good."

And he let out a cry of deliverance, pulsing life flooding into Jade. He collapsed on top of her, both of them breathing hard.

"That was fucking amazing," said Jade, as she and Mark cuddled, "but we've got to come up with something different this time."

"How about you include Rebecca next time?" suggested Mark, "menáge trois?"

"Deal," said Jade, "but I get first crack at her."

"Only if you let me watch." said Mark.

Jade laughed. Role playing with Mark never got old.


End file.
